Reviews En Bref: Cuir Garamante & Cuir Venenum

Posted on May 18, 2014 by Kafkaesque

I thought I’d take a brief look at MDCI Parfums‘ Cuir Garamante and Parfumerie Generale‘s Cuir Venenum in today’s mini reviews. As always, my Reviews En Bref are for fragrances that — for whatever reason — didn’t seem to warrant one of my more detailed assessments. In the case of both of these perfumes, neither one was actually a “leather” fragrance on my skin, and both were extremely simple scents at their core.

MDCI PARFUMS CUIR GARAMANTE:

Source: Luckyscent.

Cuir Garamante is an eau de parfum that was released in 2013. According to Fragrantica, its notes includes:

pink pepper, nutmeg, saffron; rose, cyperus esculentus [cypriol], leather, vanilla, labdanum, incense and sandalwood.

Cuir Garamante is virtually identical to LM Parfums‘ Black Oud on my skin. To be precise, it mimics the first 6 hours of Black Oud in an unswerving line, with only minuscule differences in the amount of saffron and Norlimbanol that show up. In fact, Laurent Mazzone’s fragrance — released a year before — was the first thing that came to my mind when I tested Cuir Garamante, followed by Puredistance‘s 2013 BLACK which is also very similar to the opening phase of Black Oud. All three fragrances begin with an extremely spicy, dark, woody bouquet dominated by saffron, pink peppercorns, rose, syrupy purple fruit-chouli, woody notes, and smokiness. None of them are genuine leather fragrances on my skin, but center instead on an oud-like note, whether from cypriol, Norlimbanol, or some other woody-ambered aromachemical

Photo: My own.

The primary differences between the three fragrances involve the changing role of the rose note, the Norlimbanol, and the drydown. On my skin, Cuir Garamante is a largely linear scent that spends hours wafting a blend of spices, purple patchouli, fruitchouli-rose, oud, and dry, woody-amber, flecked with darkness and the subtle suggestion of some vaguely “leathery” undertone. At times, the latter feels drizzled with honey in a way that’s very appealing, and strongly reminiscent of both Black Oud and LM Parfums’ Hard Leather.

In its middle phase, starting roughly in the middle of the third hour, the Norlimbanol grows stronger, slowly overtaking the very jammy rose. At the same time, the other notes turn more abstract, particularly the saffron and spices. With every passing hour, the scent turns drier and the notes melt into each other. Cuir Garamante slowly turns into a simple woody-amber scent and, in its final moments, is nothing more thana blur of slightly sweet woodiness.

Source: hqwallbase.com

I did side-by-side tests of Cuir Garamante, Black Oud, and Puredistance’s Black, and all three fragrances are incredibly close in their opening stage. Cuir Garamante simply keeps that stage for several hours more than the other two fragrances. I think it has more Norlimbanol or cypriol than Black Oud, but significantly less rose and patchouli than Puredistance’s Black. The latter diverges the most in terms of the drydown, has the longest focus on the fruitchouli-rose note, and is the most aromachemical of the three on my skin. It is also the weakest in terms of projection and longevity. Of the three, Black Oud is the least synthetic, the smoothest, the most “black” in visual nature, and the most refined.

Photo: my own.

Yet, if you ignore the small differences in terms of the secondary notes or tiny fluctuations in the nuances, Cuir Garamante is essentially, by and large, identical to LM Parfums’ Black Oud on my skin. They have the same great longevity (well over 14 hours) and similar sillage, but they differ in terms of price. Black Oud costs $225 or €195 for a 100 ml bottle of what is essentially a pure parfum extrait. Cuir Garamante costs $250 for 75 ml of eau de parfum. (Puredistance Black costs almost $600 for a 100 ml extrait, and is definitely not worth the price, in my opinion.) As noted, I think Black Oud is a smoother, less synthetic, higher quality fragrance. I also think it is much less linear, if you consider the nuances. While all that comes down to a question of personal taste, the bottom line, though, is that there is such a substantial overlap between the fragrances that you only need one of them.

PARFUMERIE GENERALE CUIR VENENUM:

Source: Fragrantica

Cuir Venenum (or “PG03 Cuir Venenum“) is an eau de parfum that was released in 2004. Despite the “leather” part of its title, this is a fragrance that is largely centered around orange blossoms. In fact, Fragrantica categorizes Cuir Venenum as a “floral, woody musk,” which is quite accurate, in my opinion. The site says Cuir Venenum’s notes include:

lemon, orange blossom, coconut, leather, myrrh and musk.

Parfumerie Generale, however, lists only:

Orange Blossom, Leather , Cedar, Musk and Honey

Orange Blossom Syrup.

Cuir Venenum opens on my skin with extremely syrupy, extremely sweet orange blossoms, infused with a plastic vanilla note and such an intensely fruited element that it strongly resembles like fruit-chouli. Clean white musk and a tinge of coconut complete the picture. The whole thing is cloyingly sweet, but also smells like something that you’d find at Bath & Body Works, thanks to the perfume’s soapy, clean streak. None of that is a compliment. At niche prices, one expects a little more than a generic, sweet fruity-floral concoction with screeching orange blossoms, plastic-y undertones, soapy cleanness, and cheap white musk.

On my skin, there is not an iota of actual leather at any point in Cuir Venenum’s lifespan. Not one shred of it. Parfumerie Generale’s website says this about the leather note in the perfume:

Sombre, heady and opulent leather is generally an inevitable component of men’s perfumery. Reinterpreted, modernised – even feminised – it shows a new oriental and erotic facet that gives it depth and mystery.

Concord Grape Jam. Source: Tasty Yummies blog. (Link to website embedded within photo.)

Not on my skin. There is no leather — neither opulent, heady, modernised, feminised, refined, nor any other kind for that matter. Instead, there is what feels like a hell of a lot of purple, grape-y, fruit-chouli molasses that further amplifies the syrupy nature of the orange blossoms. The cause probably stems from the grape aspect of the orange blossoms’ naturally occurring methyl anthranilate, but I wish it had been toned down by several decibels.

Source: fantom-xp.com

The best thing that can be said for Cuir Venenum is that it eventually gets better — though it’s rather a relative matter, if you ask me. At the start of the 4th hour, a soft, golden warmth diffuses its way through the flowers, and softens the orange blossoms. It helps to muffle and tone down the reign of sickly fruitiness, even if it’s just by a hair. It also alleviates some of that revoltingly cheap white musk. I suspect it stems from the myrrh, though I don’t detect either its usual anise-like facets nor its incense, dusty ones. There is a muffled whisper of some vague nuttiness in the background, but it is very muted. What is more noticeable is a growing touch of waxy coconut that slowly starts to rise from the base.

Photo: my own.

In its drydown, Cuir Venenum finally turns creamy, soft, and less sweet. Roughly 6.5 hours into its development, a milky quality appears, thanks to the coconut. There is also a softness that almost feels like some vaguely clean, new suede — but not quite. It lacks the untouched, pristine cleanness or powderiness of some suede scents, many of which are recreated through iris. Here, the note is more akin to a soft, smooth suppleness with a certain creaminess underlying it. The fruited orange blossoms still lie over everything, but they are heavily muffled now and no longer drip with a cloying, almost gourmand sweetness. In its final hours, Cuir Venenum emits a vaguely clean milky softness that is almost suede-like and sprinkled with the mere suggestion of orange blossom.

All in all, Cuir Venenum lasted just a hair over 8.25 hours. The sillage was generally soft, projecting initially about 2 inches above the skin. It felt very gauzy, wispy, and lightweight, despite the gooeyiness of its dripping syrup. Cuir Venenum turned into a skin scent on me by the end of the 3rd hour, which I found to be rather a relief. I didn’t find any of it to be a sophisticated scent of luxurious quality, nor a hugely complex, morphing, twisting one, either.

Source: post-gazette.com

Cuir Venenum has received mixed reviews on Fragrantica, though the majority are negative. Usually, I don’t get into comparative assessments in my Reviews on Bref, but the horror and snark on Cuir Venenum are simply too good to pass up:

Smells bizarrely of rotting garbage, specifically of when people collect soda cans in garbage bags for recycling and you can smell the sugary soda fermenting and rotting. Do smell leather, too. Tried it again. My final verdict: a weathered drunkard sits down on a badly tanned leather sofa that’s been discarded on the sidewalk. He opens his quart of Mad Dog 20/20 and starts guzzling, spilling quite a bit down his front. He then passes out and pisses himself. This stuff smells like his crotch. Truly awful.

Stale malt liquor with addition of one marinated cigarette butt.

Grape snowball syrup squirted into a bowl with huge feet soaking in stanky wine and vinegar, and then placed into leather boots with no socks. Basically, it smells like a clown working in a leather tannery.

All I could smell was… cigarette smoke! No, it wasn’t tobacco; it was pure nicotine! Wearing Cuir Venenum feels like entering cold, empty smoking-room. It feels like standing next to someone who’s been smoking a pack of cigarettes a day for twenty years now and tries to kill their smoky smell with some kind of cheap perfume.

All in all, to me it is a smell of a dark, freshly draught beer with a slight cigarette undertone.

I actually thought that I was testing a mislabeled sample, so different was my perception from the official notes. Top notes of vinyl and acrid grape cough syrup, followed by a whiff of cow dung (possibly the “leather”?), all leading into a persistent candy-sweet-powder drydown of maligned orange blossom. Very synthetic in character. I dislike this on me and would find it abhorrent on a man.

Parmegiano Reggiano cheese. Source: maltatoday.com.mt

For Dr. Ellen Covey of Olympic Orchids perfumery, there was no rotting garbage, cow dung, beer, a man’s crotch, or stale cigarettes, but, instead, “parmesan cheese” mixed with grape candy, leading her to end her review with a question: “what were they thinking?”

One of the most bizarre openings I’ve smelled in a long time. The predominant – no, overpowering – note is artificial grape candy, accompanied by what I will tactfully refer to as parmesan cheese. There’s also a little civet skulking in the background. It’s an odd combination if ever there was one. Since orange blossom is listed in the notes, it’s possible that the accord was hugely overdosed with methyl anthranilate or some similar “grape” aromachemical.

I kept waiting for the grape and “parmesan” notes to make a graceful exit, but they refused. Instead, they just turned the intensity down a notch, or I slowly adapted to them. I could have scrubbed, but my morbid curiosity had kicked in, so I waited to see what else, if anything, this perfume had to deliver. Apparently there was nothing. After a few hours, all that was left was a light, sugary grape scent on my skin along with something vaguely musky.

“Venenum” is a Latin word meaning venom or poison. […] Cuir Venenum goes into the curio cabinet to serve as an example of a perfume that raises the unanswerable question, “What were they thinking?”

As you can see, a lot of people experienced a fragrance that was much worse than the banal, screeching, cheap Bath & Body Works fruity-floral that I encountered. In all fairness, however, there are people on Fragrantica who actually like Cuir Venenum and its orange blossom blast. They are not many, but they do exist. And some people even experience a leather scent, though few of the ones who do actually seem to like it. So, if you’re a huge fan of orange blossoms (and a glutton for punishment), I suppose you should check out Cuir Venenum. Who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky….

DETAILS:

CUIR GARAMANTE Cost & Availability: Cuir Garamante is an eau de parfum that comes in a 75 ml bottle called a “tasselled” bottle which costs $250 or €215, and a fancier bottle with a bust statue on it in the same 75 ml size for $375. There is also a Discovery Set. You can buy Cuir Garamante from the Parfums MDCI website, which also has an exclusive deal involving their discovery sets. Apparently, if you order either of 2 discovery set (set of 5 or set of 8), that amount is credited towards the purchase of a full bottle. In the U.S.: Cuir Garamante is available at Luckyscent, along with a Discovery Set of 8 different MDCI fragrances in a 12 ml size for $210. Regular sized samples are also available. Osswald also has both versions, but sells the basic bottle for $263, not $250. Outside the U.S.: you can purchase Cuir Garamante from Parfums MDCI, First in Fragrance and other retailers.

CUIR VENENUM Cost & Availability: Cuir Venenum is an eau de parfum that comes in a variety of sizes. Luckyscent sells the 50 ml bottle for $125. You can find the smaller 30 ml size for €62 on PG’s European website, as well as at Osswald NY in the U.S., and many other vendors. Samples of both fragrances are available from a wide variety of sources, including Surrender to Chance.

Amouage Journey (Man): Fiery Splendour

Posted on May 8, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Source: dragonw.wikia.com

Stunning, bold splendour that grabs you from the first moment, and never lets go. Amouage‘s new Journey for Men takes you on a tour of the spice markets of Sichuan, armed with a hefty bottle of expensive cognac, as tendrils of incense waft from a nearby Buddhist temple. The fiery bite of a thousand Sichuan Hot Pots envelop you, but so do the dry woods nearby which are shot through with tiny streams of leathery resins. A haze fills the air, a haze of golden amber which cocoons you in warmth as you stumble — drunk on fruited booziness, your mouth on fire from the chili peppers, with incense smoke woven through your hair — into a soft cocoon of tonka creaminess. Journey Man is a brilliant essay on spiced, fiery boldness mixed with oriental opulence. I thought it was truly fantastic, but that opening… what a stunning opening.

Journey Man. Source; Amouage Facebook page.

Journey Man accompanies Journey Woman as the latest releases from the house of Amouage. They are both eau de parfums that will be released in June, and were created by Alberto Morillas and Pierre Negrin under the direction of Christopher Chong, Amouage’s Creative Director. As of yet, there is no press release on the exact inspiration or story behind Journey Man (hereinafter sometimes referred to just as “Journey“), but Amouage provided the perfume’s notes on its official Facebook page:

Woody Spicy

Top: Sichuan Pepper, Bergamot, Cardamom, Neroli Bigarade
Heart: Juniper Berries, Incense, Pure Geraniol, Tobacco Leaves
Base: Tonka Beans, Cypriol, Leather, Ambrox.

Sichuan hot pot or "Huo Guo". Source: thebeijinger.com

Sichuan hot pot. Source: thebeijinger.com

Have you ever had a Sichuan Hot Pot? I’m far too much of a chili pepper coward to do so, but I saw and smelt plenty of them when I was in China. The Hot Pot is a much beloved dish that goes back over a 1,000 years, and is centered on a hearty stock infused with chili peppers to which you add other ingredients. There are variations from region to region, but the province of Sichuan is famed for having the fieriest of them all. I’ve seen the impact on aficionados like Chef Anthony Bourdain, who was almost completely hobbled by its flaming intensity in one episode of No Reservations. As Wikipedia succinctly explains:

One of the most famous variations is the Chongqing (Chungking) má là (Chinese: 麻辣 – “numb and spicy”) hot pot, to which Sichuan pepper (Chinese: 花椒 huā jiāo “flower pepper”; also known as prickly ash) is added. Combined with spicy ingredients like chili, it creates a sensation on the tongue that is both spicy and burns and numbs slightly[.]

source: colourbox.com

Journey Man opens on my skin as a milder version of the Sichuan hot pot that made Anthony Bourdain gasp. In Amouage’s kitchen, the stock is made of expensive, aged, neroli cognac, while the accompanying ingredients are incense, dry cypriol, leather, and a touch of amber. It is fiery with a serious bite, but fantastically boozy as well. There is spiced dustiness hovering all around, which is perfectly balanced and countered by a wave of slightly sweetened richness. The intensity, fieriness and incredible boldness of the scent punches you in the solar plexus — and I mean that in the best way possible.

Journey’s spiciness seems to far transcend mere chili peppers, though. It feels as though half of a Chinese spice market has been combined in a really potent mix that is made of pure booze. I have absolutely no idea how the various notes coalesced to produced a cognac accord with a vaguely fruited undertone on my skin, but a random guess would be the amber mixed with the neroli and the juniper berries. The latter never carries a pine nuance but, rather, smells fruited, bitter and slightly resinous. Actually, it feels a lot more like pink peppercorn berries than anything from a juniper tree. As for the cardamom, it doesn’t have the vaguely sweet nuttiness that it often manifests on my skin. Instead, it feels more like the powdered remains left at the bottom of an old wooden spice drawer.

Cypriol. Source: indianflowersandherbs.blogspot

The cypriol (also knows as nagarmotha) is key in all this. As Fragrantica explains, the plant “is a relative to papyrus. Its smell is woody with earthy and spicy nuances.” Its oil is often used as a base for oud fragrances, which perhaps explains why some people smell the note in a perfume and think that they’re detecting agarwood. Here, the cypriol combines with the cardamom and incense to create an unusual dustiness. It’s not purely like an ancient Buddhist temple filled with incense; it’s not purely like spice dust; and it’s not purely woody dryness, either. It is like some combination of all three of those aspects in one. Perhaps the best way to describe it is as spiced, woody, incense dust.

It tries desperately to keep the cognac-like richness in check, but, to my joy, it fails. The fiery, spiced booziness flows over everything in a way that would make the Greek god of wine, Dionysius, and the Roman hedonist, Apicius, proud. My skin tends to amplify sweetness, so the note may not appear so strongly on others, but I really hope it does because it’s intoxicating when combined with the walloping amount of spices.

Alahine by Téo Cabanel. Source: liannetioparfums.nl

The overall effect resembles the start of one of my favorite fragrances, the opulent Alahine from Téo Cabanel. Journey Man is like a fierier, more piquant, drier and non-floral cousin to my beloved Alahine.

There are other differences as well, though. Whereas Alahine has deeply velvety, dark Ta’if roses and ylang-ylang, Journey has cypriol and strong woodiness. Journey’s fruitiness is more of the bitter bigarade and pink peppercorn kind (though it really feels as though Journey has petitgrain as well). And Alahine’s spice market is in Morocco where there are no Sichuan peppers to be found. Journey also has more of a leathered undertone. The differences become greater when you consider the development of the two fragrances as a whole, but they share a very similar opening centered on powerfully spiced booziness with incense and amber. Those of you who know my feelings about Alahine can perhaps understand why Journey Man impacted me so strongly.

Journey Man is very intense and potent, especially up close, but it is much airier than you’d expect. Initially, its sillage is excellent, though: using 3 spritzes from my decant which amount to roughly 2 small sprays from an actual bottle, the perfume projects about 4 inches above my skin. Yet, Journey doesn’t feel heavy or dense. It has strong weightlessness, to paraphrase a description that one of my readers likes to use for Bertrand Duchaufour creations.

Source: carolinejasmine.com

Actually, Journey Man feels like it could very well be a fragrance from Duchaufour. It initially has the same dusty quality as his stunning Trayee for Neela Vermeire, not to mention a similar spice, incense, woody vibe.

As with Alahine, here, too, there are differences. Journey Man is strongly boozy, while Trayee is not. Journey is more peppered, and significantly more fiery on my skin than Trayee; the incense feels more diffused throughout Journey and less individually distinct; there is no oud in Journey, though the cypriol tries to step in; and there is more golden warmth at the start. The cardamom is much less noticeable in Journey than in Trayee, especially as any sort of sweet nuttiness, and there is absolutely none of the true Mysore sandalwood that makes Trayee one of my favorite fragrances. I suppose if Trayee and Alahine had a torrid three-way love affair with some Sichuan chili peppers, their love child might be Journey Man.

Source: wallpapersfor.biz

Speaking of those peppers, they have a strange effect on me. Something about the scent tickles the nose and the back of my throat much like the capsaicin molecules in a real chili can do. At least, I think the tickle in Journey is from the Sichuan peppers. It could be from something else, since Journey Man also has an accompanying streak of raspiness and parched dryness that lasts for hours. I am sensitive to aromachemicals, so perhaps it stems from the cypriol, the Ambrox, or another molecule. In fact, I could very well be mixing two separate issues — the Sichuan capsaicin and the raspy woodiness — into one.

Photo: Jo Van Damme on Flickr. (Website link embedded within photo..)

Whatever the source of the Hot Pot bite, I happen to thoroughly enjoy it as an interesting counterbalance to all the booziness, but I do think that some people may struggle with its fiery kick. Another possible difficulty may be those flickers of desiccated woody dryness and raspiness that push Journey Man just to the edge of the unisex-masculine border. For me, the heavy layer of booziness and the ambered warmth counter these two rather separate issues, but it’s really going to come down to individual skin chemistry and personal tastes. People who like softer, richer, or cozier Orientals may struggle with these aspects of Journey, but those who love drier, woodier, and heavily spiced fragrances should have no problem.

Orange peels in cognac. Source: zmojournal.blogspot.com

Journey Man continues to shift. The fruited undercurrent grows richer and stronger after 30 minutes. It is perfectly balanced between sweetness and bitterness, perhaps because the neroli often comes across a lot more like petitgrain (the woody twigs from the citrus tree) on my skin than the actual fruit. In contrast, the juniper note continues to smell like a spiced, bright, fresh pink peppercorn berries with a fruited character. Both of them are really quite muted, and are subsumed into the cognac as if orange peels, bitter berries and bigarade petitgrain had been left to macerate in the alcohol. On my skin, Journey Man isn’t really “fruity,” let alone in any strong, distinct way. It’s more like a subtle suggestion of rich orange and woody citrus twigs.

Photo: Hawkea. Source: hawkea.blogspot.com

By the end of the first hour, Journey Man is a stunningly intense, fiery, boozy, lightly “fruited” spice bomb with incense, dry woodiness, and ambered warmth over a balsamic, resinous, leathery base. The perfume feels richer, deeper, and smokier than it did at the start. However, the very first, tiny streaks of tonka appear in the base, promising changes up ahead. Up top, the dustiness has receded by a hair, probably thanks to the growing presence of the Ambrox, though the occasional raspiness and the capsaicin bite continue. The spice mix also seems to change a little, as something creates the impression of saffron. Not buttery or sweet saffron, but the more fiery, red, nutty kind. It is probably an indirect result of the Sichuan peppers merging with the cardamom.

Source: allposters.com

None of these smaller elements can detract attention away from Journey’s main duo: the spectacularly fiery, spice-booze accord. Honestly, I wonder why no-one has ever thought to combine chili peppers with slightly fruity cognac and incense before. It’s rather brilliant, if you ask me, especially with the balsamic leatheriness of the base. I also find it very evocative. I keep imagining the red dragons of classical Chinese art, or the lion (Foo dogs?) sculptures that guard the Forbidden City — only, here, they’re drenched in expensive French cognac. I really hope that other people’s skin chemistry will highlight or amplify the booziness in the same way, because it’s a superb counterbalance to all of Journey’s drier, woodier, and spicier elements.

Eventually, the cognac takes a step back and Journey Man turns much drier. It starts roughly 90 minutes in, when the perfume turns woodier, as the cypriol grows stronger. The spices feel a little more hazy and dusty, though the suggestion of saffron remains. The notes start to overlap, losing some of their distinctive edge, but also flow more seamlessly into each other. The amber is lightly flecked with tonka, while the orange fruits lose a touch of their sweetness and turn more bitter. The subtle dustiness returns, though it may be from the growing presence of the incense more than from the spices at this point. And the whole thing is much softer in sillage. Journey Man now hovers 2 inches above the skin, though it is still very strong when sniffed up close.

Tonka beans. Source: Fragrance-creation.com

To an extent, all of these changes are ones of degree, but Journey shifts fundamentally at the start of the 3rd hour when the perfume turns creamy. The tonka fully emerges from the base, melts into the boozy-incense-spice mix, and softens its edges, while also pushing back against the dryness. Journey feels less fiery and dusty now. Its spiciness has a creaminess underlying it which only grows stronger with every passing hour. Everything from the leathered undertone to the woody dryness now feels coated by a smooth layer of tonka.

At the same time, the amber grows simultaneously softer and more prominent. It doesn’t feel like an aromachemical and, in some ways, it doesn’t even feel like “amber” at all. Rather, there is a growing golden hue about Journey Man, a gentler warmth. Together with the tonka, the amber begins to tame Journey’s red dragon. Roughly 4.5 hours in, the perfume turns into a beautifully spiced, creamy amber fragrance with more subtle fieriness and quieter boozy, fruited cognac. Muted swirls of incense smoke are diffused throughout, as is the dry woodiness that no longer feels quite so scratchy. They all sit upon a smoother, gentler resinous base which is only vaguely leathered now, and completely tamed by the creaminess.

Artist: Helen Abbas, “Ramad (Ashes)”. Source: islamicartsmagazine.com

Journey Man feels bold but soft; rich but polished; fiery but creamy and (almost) tamed. However, it’s also much gauzier and lighter. The perfume’s sillage settles at the start of the 6th hour to hover just above the skin, feeling almost like a skin scent, though Journey was still easy to detect up close for another few hours.

Journey’s fire-breathing dragon finally settles down at the start of the 7th hour. The chili peppers remain, but they are fully coated and anesthetized in a layer of creamy tonka sweetness. In fact, the tonka slowly starts to take over everything. I have to admit, I’m a little regretful about that. I like creaminess, but not as much as I do spiced booziness. Here, the effect is to squash or muffle the incense, dry woodiness, and booziness to a large degree.

Ten hours into Journey’s development, the perfume is primarily a woody tonka fragrance dusted with light touches of largely abstract spices and embedded within a soft, golden warmth. The peppers feel more and more like fruited pink peppercorn berries, with only a mild touch of Sichuan. The cypriol has changed as well, and is now slightly earthy woodiness, more than dry or raspy.

Painting by Moon Beom via lostateminor.com

For the next few hours, Journey Man devolves more and more into lightly spiced creaminess with a vague, nebulous touch of woodiness. It’s pretty, but I personally find it a little uninteresting. (I think I’m mourning the loss of the boozy cognac.) At the same time, I have to admit that it’s nice not to have the Sichuan bite any more. Journey lasts a very long time on my perfume-consuming skin, and I think 12-plus hours of fieriness would be a little exhausting. In its final moments, Journey is nothing more than a blur of spiced creaminess. All in all, Journey lasted roughly 13.75 hours, with sillage that was generally moderate when taken as an average whole.

Source: fanpop.com

Journey Man is one of those fragrances that makes me happy when I wear it. It is evocative, tells me a thousand stories, and always transports me places. It is very distinctive with a strong identity that is centered on opulence, intensity, and spicy boldness. And, it is very much what I expect from an Amouage fragrance, which was not the case, alas, with Journey Woman. For me, Amouage should be more than mere prettiness with polished elegance. When I first applied Journey Man, my first comment was “my word!” The second was, “this is more like it!”

Not all of Amouage’s fragrances work for me as a personal matter, but they are generally fragrances that I deeply respect for their innovative brilliance, their complexity, and their luxurious character. Journey Man is one that I would absolutely wear myself. With a smile on my face, and a passionate response each and every time to that stunning opening. For me, Journey Man is much more approachable and appealing than some of the men’s line that I have tried, like Fate Man, for example, or the difficult Opus VII. I respect the technical brilliance behind them, but I can’t or wouldn’t wear them.

However, I also recognize that Journey’s appeal will come down to personal tastes, not to mention skin chemistry. It always does — but perhaps for Amouage more than for some other perfume houses. I don’t know if a fiery Sichuan Hot Pot made from cognac, incense, occasionally dusty spices, and dry cypriol will be for everyone. As noted above, my skin tends to amplify sweetness and base notes, so I’m not even sure if others will experience that mysterious cognac note that worked so brilliantly with the chili pepper and that so perfectly counterbalanced the woody dryness. I also suspect that for some, particularly women who enjoy softer orientals, both the Sichuan bite and the overall spice mix may be a little much.

All I can say is that, if you love spice bomb fragrances with fieriness, woodiness, incense, some dryness, and ambered warmth, you should try Journey Man. If you loved Alahine or Trayee, then you should go out of your way to try Journey. I think it’s a dragon worthy of Imperial China, and its bold splendour is stunning.

Disclosure: My sample of Journey Man was courtesy of Christopher Chong and Amouage. That did not influence this review, I do not do paid reviews, and my opinions are my own.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Journey for Men is an eau de parfum that should be available in June in most parts of the world. I don’t know its price, but it will be offered in a 50 ml bottle as well as 100 ml. All the usual Amouage retailers should carry the fragrance, including Luckyscent, Osswald, MinNewYork, Parfums Raffy, First in Fragrance, Jovoy, Harrods, and the like. I will try to remember to update this section at that time. Samples: Surrender to Chance just received Journey Man in store on June 16th. Samples start at $3.99 for a 1/2 ml vial.

Amouage Journey (Woman)

Posted on May 7, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Source: bbs.hsw.cn

Amouage wants you to take a Journey through a delicate concert in three parts. It begins with all the musicians tuning their instruments, all the notes appearing simultaneously for a very brief moment in a wave of honeyed sweetness with osmanthus and dark leather. Then, Act I launches its long journey into a soft, very restrained, modest floral bouquet dominated largely by jasmine musk. Act II introduces the first real hints of darker, more complex notes in a bridge to the finale or Act III. It is there that the Journey finally arrives in the Orient with dark, slightly smoky leather and osmanthus covered with sticky balsamic resins and a touch of spice.

Journey Woman accompanies Journey Man as Amouage’s latest fragrances. They are both eau de parfums that will be released in June 2014. According to Christopher Chong, Amouage’s Creative Director, the perfumers who worked under his direction were Alberto Morillas and Pierre Negrin. I don’t know if the two gentlemen worked together on each fragrance, or if they each took one of the duo, but I shall assume it is the former for now.

Shanghai “Calender Girls,” vintage 1920s. Source: http://abovetheseafilm.tumblr.com/

The inspiration behind Journey Woman (or “Journey” as I shall sometimes call it) seems to have been Shanghai in the 1920s. There are no official press release descriptions for the fragrance as of yet, but Mr. Chong provided a little background in an interview with Glass Magazine earlier this year:

I’m drawing on my Chinese heritage and culture — I’m really inspired by the underground society of Shanghai in the 1920s. I’ve set myself the challenge to create the type of osmanthus that people haven’t smelt before, blended with white florals, vanilla, and leather.

Journey Woman. Source; Amouage Facebook page.

The official Amouage Facebook page describes Journey Woman as follows:

Floral, Fruity, Leather

Top: Apricot, Jasmine Tea, Osmanthus, Nutmeg, Cardamom

Heart: Jasmine Sambac, Mimosa, Honey, Cedarwood

Base: Pipe Tobacco, Saffron, Vanilla, Cypriol, Musk.

Journey Woman opens on my skin with honey, apricot, animalics and jasmine tea, followed by a quick burst of leather, a touch of abstract spices, and a whisper of dry cypriol that smells a bit oud-like. The latter is undoubtedly merely the result of my mental associations, as cypriol is often used as a base for oud fragrances. This opening with its plethora of nuanced notes is very short-lived on my skin, more akin to the brief moments before a concert starts when the musicians are tuning their instruments, and you hear a lot of notes at once. Some of the elements depart almost immediately, like the animalics and the tiny flicker of spices.

Source: picsfab.com

Within minutes, Act I of Journey Woman begins, as the honey softens into a rich honey-and-tea accord atop a base of slightly musky leather. The scent is also imbued with a delicate, very pale floralacy. It really smells like jasmine tea more than any actual flowers, per se. In fact, the floral aspect to the scent feels quite abstract and indistinct on my skin. So, too, is the fruited note which doesn’t really read as a distinct apricot note. Both elements feel more like muted, hazy suggestions amidst the sea of honey.

Jasmine Tea. Source: tea-terra.ru

The latter is not particularly sticky or overly sweet. Rather, it is more like a watery honey nectar or agave than a really thick, gooey note. One reason why the sweetness is kept in check is the flicker of a dry, reedy, slightly aromachemical parchment-like note from the cypriol. It adds a tiny, quiet, very subtle touch of dryness that keeps the honeyed jasmine tea accord from tipping into cloying territory. The whole thing sits above a very thin smear of something vaguely leathered, with occasional touches of woody dryness and the fading hint of abstract spices.

Osmanthus. Source: blog.proxisante.com

It takes about 10 minutes for the osmanthus to appear, but like everything else in Journey’s opening act, it is muted, restrained, and very indistinct. To the extent that the flower smells of apricots, it’s rather a delicate, pale aroma. More noticeable is the osmanthus’ tea-like facets which take on a subtle smokiness like black Lapsang Souchong. It mixes well with the green jasmine, and that rather nebulous, vague, nondescript blend of spices in the background. The whole thing is blanketed with a strong layer of honey in a mix that feels extremely demure.

In fact, much of Journey’s opening phase on my skin feels like as though it’s been carefully calibrated to be as restrained as possible. I can’t decide if Mr. Chong wanted some sort of slow build-up, much like a musical movement, or if he intentionally wanted to soften such heavy, strong, very oriental elements as honey, jasmine sambac, bitter nutmeg, and fiery saffron. I have to admit, I find it all very disappointing. I tested Journey on both arms, just to see if there would be a substantial variation, as there sometimes is with my non-testing arm. No, there was no dramatic difference.

Acacia mimosa. Source: cn.best-wallpaper.net

Journey continues to slowly shift. 30 minutes in, a lovely creamy softness starts to rise up from the base. It is warm, smooth, and very golden in feel. There is a light touch of powderiness, as if the mimosa’s yellow pollen had been sprinkled over everything, but the flower itself doesn’t appear on my skin. The leatheriness in the base softens further, but it is really more like an undercurrent of textural darkness than actual leather. It is very subtle, as is the cypriol’s oud-like touch which grows increasingly muted. For the most part, Journey Woman is a very honeyed fragrance with largely abstract fruity and floral notes, flecked very lightly by muted, muffled touches of black tea, “leather,” and vaguely woody dryness.

The creaminess grows stronger and stronger with every passing moment, and it is the nicest part of Journey’s first act. 45 minutes into the perfume’s development, it merges fully with the honey and the abstract fruity florals, turning into a smooth, very creamy sweetness. There is a fluctuating level of “leather” in the base, and an occasional, fleeting touch of smokiness, but the more noticeable event is the growing prominence of the jasmine.

Source: ebay.com

At the 90-minute mark, the jasmine sambac fully takes over, turning Journey Woman into a scent that is primarily creamy jasmine musk. The fruity nuance feel even more abstract, amorphous and muffled, the “leathered” base ebbs away for the most part, and the honey steps into the shadows. Journey Woman is a very soft, slightly sheer fragrance with only the creamy texture giving it any weight. The sillage hovers an inch above the skin, and it all feels incredibly proper.

For the next 5 hours or so, Journey Woman is, by and large, primarily a simple, creamy, jasmine woody musk on my skin. The tea — both Jasmine green and Lapsang black — fades away entirely by the end of the 2nd hour. The “leather,” honey and the abstract hint of woodiness pop up only once in a while in the background, then flit away, before occasionally reappearing in a very minimalistic way. Meanwhile, the fruity note continues to be abstract, doesn’t translate as “apricot,” and is so muted that it often seems like it’s about to vanish away entirely. What I’m left with for hours and hour is a very generic, nondescript but refined, smooth jasmine musk with creaminess.

Source: popularscreensavers.com

The overall effect reminds me of a Kilian fragrance in its polished, easy, refined smoothness, but also, in its uncomplicated simpleness. And this is where I have some serious problems. Journey Woman’s opening act doesn’t have the characteristic Amouage signature of very opulent, complex, heavy boldness with endless layers, twists, and turns. It doesn’t even feel particularly oriental in nature. It’s more like a very abstract scent, a creamy fruity-floral with woody musk aspects and some nebulous suggestions of other things once in a blue moon.

“Sweet osmanthus, Chrysanthemum and Birds” by Lue Ji, Ming Dynasty. Source: paintingschinese.com

It’s pretty in its smooth, polished refinement, but it simply doesn’t feel like an Amouage scent. If you gave me a blind smell test, never in a million years would I ever suspect that what I was smelling in Journey’s first six hours was created by Amouage. I would think it was possibly a Chanel Exclusif, one of Kilian‘s smoothly simplistic Asian fragrances, or a new member of the largely unremarkable Tom Ford‘s Atelier d’Orient collection. Journey’s restraint, light airiness, and lack of heft are only a small part of the reasons why.

The main reason is that Journey Woman on my skin is incredibly safe and nondescript. It could easily be a creamier, fractionally deeper, minutely richer cousin to Chanel‘s 1932, only without the latter’s “bathtastic” aldehydes. They don’t smell the same, but the overall vibe and restraint are very similar. There is none of the boldness, richness, heavy opulence, spiciness and, more importantly, complex intensity that I associate with Amouage fragrances like the two Jubilations, Interlude Man, Fate Woman, Ubar, Epic Woman, or the like. (For what it’s worth, I thought the new Journey Man felt like a full-born Amouage from the start with a simply spectacular, stunning opening.)

For me, Journey Woman is a very approachable, easy, very light affair that feels like a church mouse librarian in a family of powerful divas and sheikhs, albeit a church mouse dressed in high-quality designer clothes. I have to admit, I found myself completely bewildered at times at the scent wafting off my skin. Then, I remembered Beloved Man which had a similar creaminess on my skin in a refined, pretty bouquet that was simultaneously rather nondescript and very un-Amouage-like in its simplicity. The full set of notes may differ, but the restrained vibe, lack of complexity, and creaminess are similar. So, perhaps Journey Woman isn’t a complete anomaly. Then again, Beloved Man has received a rather polarized reception for reasons similar to what I feel about Journey Woman, so perhaps that says something as well.

For any other brand, being compared to a Chanel Exclusif or Kilian wouldn’t be a bad thing. Yet, for me, Amouage is one of my favorite perfume houses precisely because it isn’t like those brands — neither of which are particular favorites of mine. (Chanel’s magnificent Coromandel excepted.) Amouage has a very different identity and aesthetic in my mind, so the disconnect that I feel for a good 6 hours with Journey Woman is difficult for me. (Even more so when I compare it to Journey Man’s superb, intoxicating opening.)

Painting: Ju Lian (1828-1904). Source: arts.cultural-china.com/

None of this is to say that Journey Woman is a bad fragrance. It’s not. In fact, I think women who are looking for a deeper, semi-oriental cousin to Chanel’s 1932, only with touches of nebulous “fruitiness” and “leather” instead of aldehydes, will probably adore Journey Woman. Same with anyone who enjoyed the light, airy floral orientals in Tom Ford‘s Atelier d’Orient Collection like Shanghai Lily and Fleur de Chine.

Like 1932, Journey Woman is completely unchallenging, uncomplicated, and easy in its polished simplicity. However, I was bored and unimpressed with Chanel’s 1932 for many of those precise reasons, not to mention its bland facelessness. I’m one of those people who needs more in a fragrance than mere refinement, especially when they are restrained, light floral musks. I don’t think elegant smoothness is the same as actual character, and I struggle when it comes with a certain price point. It is even harder for me when it comes from a perfume house whose fragrances I deeply respect and generally consider to be brilliant, innovative, opulent, complex, and distinctive. Like Amouage.

Painting by Moon Beom via lostateminor.com

Journey Woman is saved for me by its genuinely lovely drydown. It appears after a brief bridge phase (or Act II) where the perfume transitions by taking parts of Act I and merging them with growing elements of oriental darkness that will be at the heart of the dénouement in Act III.

The second act slowly begins at the start of the 6th hour, when a resinous, almost balsamic streak first stirs in Journey’s base. The creamy jasmine musk takes on a goldenness that feels almost ambered, as if some labdanum and a touch of smoky styrax had been used. Tiny touches of osmanthus and honey return to the scene, while the leather in the base grows stronger. Next to it are the first suggestions of something tobacco’d, though it’s subtle and muted.

Slowly, very slowly, Journey Woman changes, until suddenly it turns into a very different fragrance at the start of the 9th hour. Now, Act III begins, and the perfume feels like what I had expected Journey to be at the start. The osmanthus bursts in, taking over, and tossing the jasmine to the side completely. To my surprise, the honey reappears. At the same time, the leather is out in full force, and the osmanthus wafts both its delicate floralacy and its more fruited, apricot characteristics. Subtle touches of smokiness weave in and out, though I can’t figure out whether they stem from the tobacco or from something else. To me, it resembles styrax in all its sticky, chewy, dense, and smoky darkness.

Source: free wallpapers at antemortemarts.com.

Journey Woman is now a very honeyed, lightly fruited, leathery osmanthus scent atop a darkly resinous base and cocooned in a soft golden warmth. Sometimes, the fruitiness feels more like an abstract, nebulous suggestion; on other occasions, there is a definite whiff of actual apricots in the mix. At the same time, the osmanthus emits tiny flickers of black Lapsang Souchong tea again. Equally tiny touches of spiciness are mixed into the rich bouquet, though they are generally muted, amorphous, and never read as “saffron” or “nutmeg” to my nose. Much more prominent, however, is the tobacco that lurks in base. It feels more dense and chewy than the more delicate pipe variety mentioned in the notes, and adds to Journey’s new oriental darkness and depth. The whole thing is finished off by a light coating of honey.

Act III feels like we’ve come full circle from Journey’s opening moments, and is much more of what I expected from the fragrance’s notes. It’s a sultry bouquet whose light touches of smokiness, leathery resins, and tobacco work wonderfully to transform the osmanthus away from its usual delicate floralacy and fruitiness. The only shame is that, at this point, Journey is a skin scent on me so I can’t enjoy its new richness unless I have my nose on my skin.

Photo: my own.

Journey Woman continues in this vein for several more hours, until it finally fades away in a blur of honeyed sweetness with a touch of something vaguely resembling osmanthus. All in all, Journey Woman lasted just under 14.5 hours on my perfume-consuming skin with the equivalent of 2 sprays from an actual bottle, and 12.75 hours with the equivalent of one.

The sillage was moderate at first, wafting about 3 inches above the skin with the larger dose, but the perfume felt very airy and light. Journey Woman gained a little more body and richness when the creaminess arrived, but the sillage generally hovered a modest inch above the skin at the start of the 3rd hour. It turned into a skin scent on me 4.5 hours in. As a whole, I would categorize Journey Woman as rather light, though tenacious in longevity. It is not one of Amouage’s powerhouse scents.

As you may have gathered by now, I was disappointed in Journey Woman. Perhaps my expectations were too high after reading all the rich notes listed in the description, many of which are favorites of mine. I had thought Journey Woman would be a bold, spicy, dark, oriental sibling to the fantastic Fate Woman or to the mesmerizing, complex Jubilation 25, but it’s more of its own creature with a simpler, quieter style. It doesn’t feel like an Amouage to me (except in terms of its quality and smoothness), but my reaction is ultimately one of subjective interpretations and tastes.

I think women who like florals with restrained, refined simplicity and uncomplicated easiness will appreciate Journey Woman. So will anyone who likes creamy jasmine musks that eventually turn into something more oriental, leathery and dark. If you enjoyed some of the florals in Tom Ford’s Atelier d’Orient collection, you should definitely give Journey Woman a sniff.

Disclosure: My sample of Journey Woman was courtesy of Christopher Chong and Amouage. That did not influence this review, I do not do paid reviews, and my opinions are my own.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Journey Woman is an eau de parfum that should be available in June in most parts of the world. I don’t know its price, but it will be offered in a 50 ml bottle as well as 100 ml. All the usual Amouage retailers should carry the fragrance, including Luckyscent, Osswald, MinNewYork, Parfums Raffy, First in Fragrance, Jovoy, Harrods, and the like. I will try to remember to update this section at that time. Samples: Surrender to Chance just received Journey Woman in store on June 16th. Samples start at $3.99 for a 1/2 ml vial.

Reviews En Bref: Tola Misqaal & Masha

Posted on May 3, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Dhaher bin Daher of Tola. Source; Fragrantica.

Tola (sometimes written as “Tola Perfume“) is a new fragrance house from Dubai. It was founded in 2013 by Dhaher bin Dhaher, who is also the nose behind its creations. He is a self-taught perfumer who grew up around perfumes, and whose story is told in a detailed Fragrantica article about the line. The house’s name, “tola,” refers to an ancient Indian measurement unit which predates the metric system.

Tola’s line is centered around The Voyage Collection, which is comprised of six fragrances, each of which is available either in eau de parfum or pure parfum concentration. The fragrances have been available in Europe for a while, but only recently came to Luckyscent and Osswald in America. Today, I’ll look at Misqaal and Masha, both in eau de parfum form.

MISQAAL:

Misqaal. Source: Luckyscent.

The company’s description of Misqaal on various perfume sites reads as follows:

Misqaal eau de parfum is a fragrance for the enigmatic woman…At the crossroads of Europe and Asia, an artisan puts the finishing touches on his masterpiece: a perfume for her royal highness, an enigmatic woman who exudes equal amounts of charm and femininity with just a hint of danger. To retain the scent’s exceptionality, the artisan produces only one Misqaal (an ancient unit of measure reserved for gold and expensive spices), and this becomes the most coveted object in the palace…Misqaal was crafted by modern day artisans to recreate the essence of the fabled princess in this tale from the Orient.

Top notes: pineapple, plum, raspberry, grapefruit, mandarin orange, bergamot, lemon, pink pepper, nutmeg, star anise, coriander, honey and fir;
Middle notes: juniper, cinnamon, wormwood, geranium, heliotrope, lily-of-the-valley, jasmine, rose, orris, french orange flower and orchid;
Base notes: vetiver, sandalwood, patchouli, agarwood (oud), cypriol oil or nagarmotha, incense, labdanum, siam benzoin, tonka bean, vanilla, white musk, castoreum, leather and ambergris.

Source: Wallpaperscraft.com

I’ll be blunt: Misqaal traumatized me. I felt as if I’d been knocked over by a gigantic tank, squashing me under heavy treads of sweetness and fruity excess. I love rich heavy perfumes, but they need a refined touch, not a heavy hand that throws the kitchen sink at you. And, in case the long list of notes did not make it clear, the kitchen sink seems to be very much a part of the Tola DNA.

Misqaal on my skin was primarily a massive, heavy, unchanging, indiscriminate ooze of cloying, fruited sweetness. The first night I tried it, tiny spritzes equal to 2 small sprays from a proper bottle gave me actual stomach-churning nausea. At one point, I even hid my arm under my pillow in order to escape from the scent, hoping desperately that time would ameliorate the situation. Alas, there was no refuge, not for many hours. I was hit by wave after wave of heavy-handed, potent, super-charged excess, pulsating like a weapon at me. Even through the bloody pillow, it seemed. There are no words to describe the degree of my queasiness and dread.

Source: superbwallpapers.com

Misqaal’s opening bouquet assailed me with what seemed to be 40% of that massive note list, all at once, and all at super concentrated levels. In reality, it was primarily just shrill, shrieking orange blossom, sticky orange, heavy honey, and a synthetic, sharp, thin oud. It was hard to distinguish some of Misqaal’s layers because this is not a fragrance with nuance or subtlety. If I focused hard, I could just about pick out tiny hints of lily of the valley, jasmine, rose, raspberry and hints of sandalwood amplified with spices and incense. There was a suggestion of powderiness from tonka and heliotrope, but they were largely overwhelmed by the torrent of honeyed stickiness.

Orange blossoms via the Pattersonfoundation.org.

In any event, the muted, minimal nuances soon disappear, leaving a cloying ball of opaque, dense, painfully sweetened goo centered primarily on orange blossom, honey, orange and that synthetic oud. Misqaal remained that way for hours, turning into a skin scent after 6.5 hours with 3 tiny sprays from my atomizer, and after 4 hours with 2 small spritzes.

The amber rises to the surface at the start of the 4th hour, and the perfume turns more abstract. Misqaal is now an overly sweet, slightly synthetic fruity floral with ambered warmth, sticky honey, and vanilla. There is a custardy richness which becomes more apparent as time passes, but it’s genuinely difficult for me to smell Misqaal up close for too long lest my stomach turn. In its final moments, Misqaal is blur of fruity floral sweetness with vanilla and amber. All in all, it lasted roughly 14 hours.

Misqaal is linear, dense, cloying and heavy-handed, in my opinion. Middle Eastern fragrances are frequently very sweet, but excessive honeyed syrupness is not my only problem with the scent. I find it to lack finesse and elegance. However, people who love gourmand fruity-florals may enjoy it, particularly if they love both sticky oranges and orange blossoms.

MASHA:

Masha. Source: Luckyscent.

The company’s description of Masha on various perfume sites reads as follows:

Masha eau de parfum with its sensual allure, embodies feminine charisma… Complex, worldly intensely feminine. These words form the common thread that binds his poems togerther. She is a complete mystery and yet she dwells within his deepest thoughts. If he could weigh all he knows of her, it would be one Masha; a small unit reserved for measuring the most rare and precious things. Yet he yearns to know more, to know everything. Masha combines warm woody notes with the intriguing allure of chypre and the femininity of luxurious flowers to capture the very essence of the modern woman.

Top notes: peach, pineapple, plum, strawberry, raspberry, apple, grapefruit, orange, lemon, bergamot, lime, pink pepper, black pepper and birch;
Middle notes: artemisia, coffee, cardamom, cinnamon, clove, lily-of-the-valley, rose, orris, jasmine and magnolia;
Base notes: leather, agarwood (oud), vetiver, sandalwood, patchouli, cedar, olibanum, labdanum, civet, castoreum, tonka bean and vanilla.

I found Masha to be a little better than Misqaal, though it’s all relative. At least Masha didn’t push me to hide my arm under a thick pillow at one point. The fact that Masha isn’t loathsomely sweet is primarily the reason why, and not much else.

Source: 123rf.com

Masha presented a different set of difficulties. The perfume has 36 notes, and it felt as though at least 23 of them hit me at once. Oddly, one of the main things I smelled is not actually on the list: immortelle. For whatever reason, some combination of the notes recreated the smell of immortelle, but not its more pleasant aspect. Instead, I was hit with curry, banana leaf, and a touch of maple syrup-like sweetness. It was followed by a synthetic oud, a hefty amount of cardamom, then cloves, patchouli, incense, spices, pepper, abstract mixed fruits, herbal artemisia with a dill-like aroma, roses, hints of plum, vanilla, vetiver, fresh apple, and coffee. No, I’m not joking. Misqaal throws everything at you at once, then follows it up with several plates of food from an Indian restaurant as well.

Source: wallpaperswide.com

I’m a bit of a masochist, so I actually tested Masha twice. Interestingly, at a higher dose, there was a significantly greater amount of apple and coffee. Alas, the banana leaf curry reappeared yet again. This time, however, there were fewer fruits, less cloves, very little patchouli, no dill, no vetiver, and no rose. The primary focus in both versions however is the spices.

Source: atyabtabkha.3a2ilati.com

At the end of 3 hours, Masha consistently turns into a curried immortelle scent infused with synthetic oud, labdanum, amber, and cardamom. The apple and coffee are much more subtle now, thank God. Stirring in the base is a slightly powdered note, and a soft, ambered warmth that increasingly takes on a caramel tonality. I cannot tell you the oddness of smelling like Indian curry with bright green apples, coffee, and caramel. It is only Masha’s vague dryness that prevented my stomach from turning.

Photo: Mike Wepplo at mikewepplo.com

Masha turns into a skin scent on me at the start of the 4th hour with 2 spritzes from my atomizer. It is a blur of spices, curried notes, synthetic oud, amber with caramel tonalities, abstract dry woodiness, and a touch of pepperiness. It takes on a vague aura of clean freshness from the musk, which merely adds to the disconcerting nature of the bouquet.

I’ll be honest, I wasn’t inspired to smell Masha with great frequency and depth. My normal practice is to take stock of a perfume’s development every 30 minutes after the midway point, if not more often. With Masha, not only was I unenthused to do so, but nothing in the first 5 hours gave any indication that the perfume was shifting or changing radically. Whenever I did smell it, Masha continued to be the same linear bouquet with only fluctuating levels of curried tonalities and small shifts in the ambered base.

By the start of the 9th hour, Masha was merely a blur of spiced, ambered woodiness, with dryness, sweetness, and a touch of grainy powderiness. The curried banana leaf-like accord was the most noticeably distinct, individual element, but, eventually, even that faded away. In its final moments, Masha was a whisper of vaguely woody, spiced amber. All in all, it consistently lasted over 12.5 hours.

ALL IN ALL:

For my Reviews en Bref, I don’t give comparative assessments from other bloggers or sites, but I’ll point you to the Fragrantica piece on the Tola line if you’re interested. It has one chap’s short take on each of the fragrances, including Misqaal or Masha.

Needless to say, I was not enthused. My experiences with the two fragrances can essentially be summarized as “traumatizing,” and “not traumatic, but very far from enjoyable.” I can see why someone who loves intensely concentrated, dense, fruity-florals with sweetness might possibly like Misqaal, but Masha is a mish-mash of too many discordant things.

In a way, that almost makes it worse. At least Misqaal can be seen as a rich, dense, honeyed orange blossom scent, even if the richness goes far into “suffocating” and “nausea” territory. Misha, however… Misha leaves me almost at a loss for words in terms of its notes. It is a lack of finesse of a completely different kind. There is almost a giddiness at how the numerous — and frequently discordant — elements are all tossed together, willy nilly, as if to see how many unusual things can be mixed together in one heavily spiced concoction.

I’m quite familiar with Middle Eastern perfumery, and have lived in the region myself in my travels, so that’s not the problem. It’s not as though Middle Eastern perfumery is foreign to me, and I “don’t get it.” No, I simply don’t think that really good Middle Eastern fragrances are such an unrestrained hodge-podge or so wildly unbalanced. In the case of Misha and Misqaal, they may feel rich due to their denseness and heaviness, but their actual bouquet isn’t at all refined. And, for $285 or €225 for a tiny 45 ml bottle, they should be.

I have samples of all six Tola fragrances, but this initial foray hasn’t inspired much confidence in me to pursue them with great urgency. Judging by Fragrantica’s overall Tola page, and looking at the remaining fragrances individually, several seem to be “fruity florals,” which is not exactly my favorite category of fragrances in the world. And they all have a huge laundry list of notes beginning with a lot of fruit, just like Masha and Misqaal. I confess to now feeling great dread at the look of them, whereas once there was enormous excitement at the line. So, if there is one that you’re particularly interested in, let me know and I’ll try to cover it sooner rather than later. Otherwise, it may indeed be “later.”

Disclosure: Perfume sample courtesy of Osswald NY. That did not influence this review. I do not do paid reviews, and my opinions are my own.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Misqaal and Misha are both eau de parfums. They come only in a 45 ml bottle that costs $285, €225, or £198. Extrait versions are available, though not on most Western retail sites. In the U.S.: Tola fragrances are available at Luckyscent and Osswald NY. Luckyscent used to have a sample discovery pack for the full line, but I no longer see it on their website. Outside the U.S.: Currently, the Tola website is under construction, and doesn’t have an e-store. In the U.K, Tola is available at Selfridges. In Paris, you can find the line at Nose. For the rest of Europe, you can turn to First in Fragrance which ships worldwide. In Dubai, Tola is available at Villa 515, Beach Road, or Le Jardin des Parfums, Abu Dhabi Mall. Samples: None of the U.S. sample sites currently carry this fragrance, but Luckyscent and Osswald NYC both sell samples at different prices.